


Broke His Crown

by grimalkinInferno



Category: X-Ray & Vav (Cartoon)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Canon Continuation, Head Injury, Injury, Like really angsty, Major Character Injury, Memory Loss, Ryan-centric, Threats of Violence, Violence, au where xray and vav gets a tHIRD SEASON, basically just pain, because my methodology is if it isnt directly disputed by canon its canon and no one can stop me, everyone gets a tragic backstory!, memory... gain?, peeps got issues, sorry not sorry ryan, this entire fic is really just me reading way too far into things and making canon my bitch, weird memory shit happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-22 04:25:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimalkinInferno/pseuds/grimalkinInferno
Summary: How did the Mad King get to where he is today? And where does he go from here?Basically if I were able to write a third season of X-ray and Vav with no limitations. Explores the Mad King and where he came from and what he does after he's taken down, as well as what everyone else does.Updates Thursdays. Is it every week or every other week? Honestly, who even fucking knows.





	1. Prologue: Part 1

It was a beautiful night in the city. Clouds were sparse, and a chilled wind blew in from the east, bringing comfort to those who had been out in the hot summer day. Only a few hours had passed since the sun had set, and the stars were all that were visible in the sky, the new moon hidden by the Earth’s penumbra.

On the streets below, scarcely a soul could be seen. Periodical lampposts illuminated the sidewalk, bringing an eerie yellow glow to the scene. A man walked home from his humdrum day job, having had to work late to pay off rent this month, and smoked. The man, thinking he was alone, mumbled a bit to himself about this or that, like what Jerry had done that day, or the new haircut he wanted to try.

He was, however, not alone. There was another man in the nearby alley, squeezed between a few empty boxes near a dumpster. This man was only a few years older than the first, though he looked much worse for wear. Messy hair, a torn shirt, and crumpled trousers were his immediate features. His eyes, hidden by the shadow, had shadows of their own that said he scarcely slept. The eyes themselves were half-lidded, no longer shining with their previous mischief, but still cunning. One could say the man even looked a little mad.

This man was usually known as the Mad King. This may come as a surprise to some, seeing as he used to be the pride and joy of the city, utterly charming the masses with his smooth words and golden promises of a better tomorrow. Golden like his crown, which just so happened to be crafted from the bones of his enemies, or so he said.

But no longer did a crown sit upon his head. It had been robbed from him some time ago. Though he still considered himself a king, the man was almost never called his former title anymore. Rat, good-for-nothing, criminal, exile; those were the names he was given most often now. The name he was called least, however, was his real name. This happened to be Ryan.

So as Ryan listened to the man who was walking home from his day job, complaining about being assigned to work with fucking  _ Jerry _ again, he contemplated how exactly he had fallen so far so fast, as he had done many times now over the past month or so.

It all started, he supposed, when those two “heroes” had decided to stick their noses into his business. X-ray and Vav, they called themselves. A couple of nobodies looking to have a name in this city.  _ His  _ city. They had somehow gotten one of his top experimental engineers under their thumb- fuck knows  _ how-  _ and smuggled his technology for themselves. And what did they do with it? Stopped petty criminals, and destroyed the city with their squabbles. Honestly, he had hardly paid them any mind at first. They were nothing to him; he had more power than they could ever imagine, and two loose ends could hardly unravel his tapestry of success.

So when he found out exactly which of his subordinates they had gotten to help them, of course he had fired her. After all, he could hardly keep around disloyal subjects. He had kept that odd machine she usually had around, though. ORF was useful, given a few modifications, and when the two vigilantes had decided to launch an impromptu rescue mission, it was the perfect time to test it.

That had backfired.

He had to admit, he had underestimated them. Even though the scientist was more of a force to be reckoned with- Hilda, that was her name- they had managed to get him locked up in an asylum. That was just fine, though. He could make this work for him. It was the perfect place to manipulate people, and he was awfully good at that. He had just set his plan into motion by getting into contact with Mogar when, lo and behold, the two “heroes” showed up at his doorstep. It was like a miracle; not only did he have the fearless warrior of the woods on his side, he could now easily get one or both of the wanna-be vigilantes on his side, or at least stir up some discord.

A little bit of patience and a migraine-inducing backstory later, he had everything perfectly orchestrated for his return. The plan went swimmingly; X-ray and Vav were broken up pathetically fast, the whole city was his to command, and Mogar had even sped up his double-crossing process. Eventually the ragtag group of rebels had “infiltrated” his facility, as predicted, he was seconds away from achieving his goal, and X-ray was about to kill his own best friend for him.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

He had underestimated them again, he supposed. He had been so confident, he had foolishly allowed a single loose end to linger. A single thread pulled, and that was all it took. In an instant, he went from city hero to outcast, a vagabond. They had dethroned him even when he had everything and they had  _ nothing. _

Ryan seethed at the thought for the umpteenth time. It seemed to be all he did these days. Those bastards. How had they resisted? He couldn’t understand that X-ray’s motives. Vav was no longer useful to him. Their trust was broken, their fate was sealed, they were enemies, and yet he had chosen to save him.  _ Why? _

It drove him to distraction, being unable to understand what went wrong. Ryan stood abruptly and began to pace, anger driving him to do something,  _ anything _ . He always knew why everything happened. He was always in control, always in power, always in the know. But now he had no control, no power, and a single question persisted;  **_why?_ **

But that wasn’t it. No, what was so utterly irritating, so mind-bogglingly  _ stupid,  _ was that for once, he had no idea what to do. There was no master plan, no straws to grasp,  _ nothing.  _ His previous co-conspirator was still falling from the top of a building, everyone else in the city loathed him, and to top it all off, he didn’t even have his  _ fucking  _ **_crown._ **

He missed his crown.

Coming to this conclusion again, Ryan sat back down where he had been, running a hand through his now-crownless hair. He was, in every sense of the word, ruined. Completely, utterly, unmistakably  _ ruined.  _ And he couldn’t even understand  **_why._ **

He rolled his head back and glared at the starry night sky. How dare it mock him? It was so beautiful, too many stars for a city, too nice of a night for the middle of July. He wanted to climb up the nearest building and shatter it, rip every glaring, mocking, bright star from the heavens and tear it apart with his own hands. He wanted the Earth to shudder with his wrath and everyone on it to tremble at his feet.

But he didn’t climb. The Earth remained stationary and indifferent, and the man who had walked past was now too far away to even hear, oblivious. The stars continued to blink cheerily above him, and he wanted to scream.

This was how he spent most of his nights these days.

At first, he had tried to formulate some plan. Assess what he had and use it to his advantage, something he was good at. He tried to get on the good side of anyone he could find, even stooping so low as to sneak around the back of restaurants for food and actually  _ speak  _ to the lowlifes that partook there. Not even they would spare him a single glance, unless it was to glare or throw insults at him. They bounced off him, naturally, but it made his blood boil to think these pathetic fools thought they were even remotely better than him.

Eventually, he realized he didn’t have any assets at all. The best he could do was get by with what he could find. Pickpocketing became a regular activity, almost a leisure, as sleight of hand was one of his specialties. Almost. It was necessary for him to survive, and surviving was all he could do.

Ryan opened his eyes, as they had been closed while he was deep in thought, and took in the poster on the wall of the building opposite him. It was a black and white likeness of the two imbeciles who had dethroned him all that time ago. Vav was wearing a goofy grin, while X-ray was winking charmingly at the camera. Big, gaudy letters over their heads read, “Be a hero for our city! Don’t litter!”

Ryan tore it down, crumpled it up, and threw it on the pavement, stomping on it for good measure. He knew it was pointless, but the action served to simmer down his rage. Slightly.

As it turned out, there had been another poster underneath. It was a poster of him. He was smiling devilishly at the camera, with the words, “Drink your milk,” printed on the bottom in bold letters. Or at least, that’s what it would have said had the words not been scratched out by pen. Accompanying his devilish smile were poorly drawn devil horns and a mustache, as well as a dick and the message, “Mad King sucks,” written in choppy handwriting.

He snapped.

A yell and a poorly calculated punch to a brick wall later, Ryan was cursing, curled around his now bleeding knuckles. The face on the poster was now entirely obscured by blood, partly torn. He hissed, shook his hand (only worsening the pain, why the hell did he do that), and sat back down in his reverie. At least he could focus on pain instead of anger for a few moments.

He stared at the hand now covered in his blood. It was a familiar sight, though it was more often the blood was not his own. He took a few moments to transport back in his memory, relishing in the power he had before. In his mind’s eye, he looked down at the poor soul he had surely murdered, wanting to watch the life drain from their eyes.

But what met his gaze was not a body. It was a brick building, being decimated by flames. He spied a torched swing set nearby. There were no bodies at all, only fire–

Ryan jolted himself from the memory. Or at least that’s what he thought it was. He wasn’t so sure. He… had never been to that place. Had he? What was it? He didn’t remember burning any buildings down like that. Arson was always a larger operation, attacking skyscrapers of bigger corporations trying to compete with his own. A small brick building? A swing set? If he were stupid, he might say it was a school, but he didn’t remember burning down any schools. That would have been too obvious for a mastermind like him. It didn’t factor into his plans at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this prologue is super fucking long so i broke it in half, but honestly you should probs just read it all as one thing... a week from now when i post the next half. mwahaha :3c


	2. Prologue: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and heres the end of the prologue! new chapter next week hopefully!

“Hey, asshole, I said gimme all your shit!”

Ryan didn’t jump at the voice, instead raising his icy gaze to the intruder. The woman in front of him, wearing a worn down hoodie and a beanie covering her ratty blonde hair, was pointing a knife at his chest. The look on her face said she was foolish enough to challenge him, but her eyes were desperate.

Ryan sighed. It figured he was getting mugged. He’d been lucky so far; while he didn’t have much of a reputation anymore, people still feared him. Clearly this woman either didn’t get the memo, or really needed to get the landlord off her back.

“I don’t have anything,” he said honestly. He really didn’t. Especially not time for this.

“Yeah, sure. Cough it up, wise guy, or else,” she threatened, gesturing in what she clearly thought was a menacing manner with the knife.  _ Or else.  _ Truly, Ryan was trembling in his boots. She must have thought she was hot shit. Or maybe she was just as crazy as he was.

Ryan stood up and pushed past her towards the exit. As bold and stupid as she might be, he really just wanted to be alone.

The mugger, stunned, whirled around. “Wh- hey! Get back here, shithead!” With surprising dexterity, she grabbed his arm, held him against her chest, and pressed the knife to his throat. “I  _ said,  _ gimme all your money,” she said.

“I said I don’t have anything, you imbecile! Let me go!” he commanded. He struggled against her, but her feet were planted and his arms were secured.

“Not ‘till you cough up some dough, fucker! I’ve got a knife with your name on it!” she said. “Now tell me where your wallet is!”

“You really aren’t very original, are you?”

“What?”

“I said, ‘You really aren’t very original, are you?’” repeated Ryan patiently. “A knife with my name on it? Or else? You clearly haven’t taken the time to rehearse. You can’t be fast  _ and  _ murderous, the two don’t-”

“Are you fucking  _ lecturing me  _ right now?” she cried, incredulous.

“Well, if you listened, maybe you could actually-”

“Don’t tell me how to mug! You’re the one getting mugged here! Now gimme the dough before I slit your throat with my fucking knife!” She made no move to even touch his skin with the weapon.

“Would you really though?”

“What kinda question is that? Of course I would!”

“You’ve never killed someone before, have you?”

She was silent. Clearly he had hit the nail on the head. Now he just had to keep hammering. “You never really wanted to turn to a life of crime, did you? No, you just needed money to keep yourself afloat. Tell me, how long have they been banging on your door?”

The woman was silent for a few moments before answering in a hushed voice, “Since last week.”

The Mad King grinned to himself. “And how much do you owe?”

“I…” She seemed about to answer, then stopped herself. “Why am I telling you my whole life story? This isn’t therapy, for fuck’s sake! Now do what I say!”

“As I said before, I have nothing,” he repeated.

“Stop fuckin’ lyin’ to me!” she cried. “That’s it, you’ve got five seconds to tell me where you keep your wallet, or you’re dead meat. One!”

“For God’s sake…”

“Two! … Three!”

He waited.

“... Four…”

She paused.

Ryan kicked back on the mugger’s shin, causing her to yelp in pain and set him free. He turned to face her as she regained her composure.

“You bastard!” she growled. “You’re gonna pay for that!”

_ We’ll see, _ he thought, and prepared for a brawl.

Ryan wasn’t much one for hand-to-hand combat. Obviously he had made it a point to learn self-defense at some point, but had never really been in a situation where it was necessary. He was used to handling things methodically and cunningly, without ever needing to lift a finger. People did what he said because he told them to, and that usually included fighting people for him. He was good at surprising people to kill them while they weren’t looking, and even making impromptu weapons in a pinch, but an actual fight was not something he was generally prepared for. Nonetheless, he was confident in his ability to handle himself, especially against an unfocused and erratic opponent.

Said opponent presently launched herself at him. Ryan braced himself and grabbed her arms as she came close enough to stab him, setting them in a deadly reverse tug-of-war. Luckily Ryan was larger and stronger than the woman, and smashed her against the wall where the poster was. He held the arm with the knife against the wall, about to punch her in the gut with the other. She ducked under his arm at the last second, and his already injured fist hit the brick again. In a blur of white-hot pain he was kicked to the ground, having apparently let the mugger go. His head hit pavement with a sickening  _ thud.  _ Through stars, he saw her get on top of him, about to shove the knife into his chest. He put his arms up in defense, and another shriek of pain tearing up his arm told him he would have a nasty scar there later. She grabbed both of his arms with one hand, getting ready to stab again, this time with a clear shot. Her eyes were bright with fear and anger.

Briefly, Ryan wondered if this was what his victims felt like.

Then, suddenly, she wasn’t there anymore. He looked up in time to see a man with a blue cape pinning her to the ground, shouting something indistinct. The man got up, hands on his hips. The woman was still on the ground, apparently confused by whatever it was he had said. 

Then he did something strange.

He offered her his hand.

After a moment, she took it. He helped her up with a smile, and said something else, seeming almost smug. The woman’s expression hardened, and she shoved past him, running towards the exit. He spun around to go after her, and Ryan realized who his hero was.

He watched as Vav looked back to the mugger, as if debating on going after her or not, before his eyes turned to him. He didn’t know what exactly he looked like just then, but whatever it was made Vav’s expression go from shock to anger to… pity. More clearly now, he spoke to him.

“Uh… are you… alright?” said Vav lamely.

“ _ You, _ ” Ryan growled. Here was one of the “heroes” who had ruined his life, had taken his crown, had stolen his empire, and he had the  _ audacity  _ to look at him with  _ pity. _ He lurched to his feet as best he could, leaning against the wall for support as the world teetered. “ **_You,_ ** ” he repeated, somehow with more venom. “ _ Why are you here.” _ It was not a question.

“I-I, er,” Vav stuttered (as he should). “I just, sort of, heard some commotion, was just around, um, scoping out the city, X-ray and I sort of take turns on the night- “

“ **_No_ ** _ ,  _ you  _ blithering idiot, _ ” he spat. “Why. Are. You.  **_Here._ ** ”

“I’m… not quite sure I understand?” 

Of course he didn’t. Why did he expect this moron to understand  _ anything _ ? No, of course he didn’t understand that maybe, just maybe, ruining someone’s life might cause them to hate you. That someone might not exactly be hopping up and down to see you when the last glimpse of you they got was when they were being  _ assaulted by a mob. _ And he had the fucking  _ gall  _ to save his ass after that?

But Ryan didn’t feel like explaining any of that to this imbecile. “Of course not. Forget it.” He was feeling rather exhausted after getting the veritable shit kicked out of him, and just wanted to be left to lick his wounds in peace.

Unfortunately, Vav seemed to have other plans. He was not going away at all, and was actually shuffling closer. Ryan didn’t have the energy to look up and see what Vav thought he was doing, preferring to glare at the bloody pavement and try and staunch the bleeding from his arm. (Fuck, it burned.) 

Nevertheless, Vav seemed determined to do whatever he wanted. “Um… my question still stands, though. That is- are you alright?” 

Ryan almost wanted to laugh. Almost. He summoned the energy to lift his head and look Vav in the eye with what was surely his most devastating glare. “Take a  _ wild. Fucking. Guess _ .”

He could stand to be more articulate, but the words seemed to fail him, just out of reach. Even so, that seemed to get the point across. Vav ran a nervous hand through his hair as he rambled, “R-right, obviously, that’s, er, that’s quite a lot of blood, kind of obvious really. Do you- um, do you want-”

“If the next word out of your mouth is ‘help...’ I’ll surgically remove your larynx and graft it to a kazoo to see if it sounds better,” Ryan growled, clipped in both annoyance and fatigue.

Vav gulped and put his hand on his throat. “Right then. No- no help needed. Got it. Totally cool. Yep.”

Finally, that seemed to have scared him enough to keep him quiet for more than a few seconds as he awkwardly shuffled his feet. That was just as well, since Ryan didn’t feel like he could stand to speak more than he already had. This gave him time to wonder if Vav even remembered who he was. It hadn’t been that long, but he certainly looked different. The blood was definitely a change. 

Speaking of blood, there was an awful lot of it, particularly on his face and getting in his eye. He brought up his hand to wipe it away before a lightning bolt of pain lanced up his arm, fresh and sudden enough to make him cringe and hiss. Apparently he had briefly forgotten the gash the altercation had left him with. And his probably-broken hand. Looking at his hands now, they were covered in blood, along with a whole lot of the rest of him. As if these rags weren’t already ruined. Blood is impossible to wash out. Maybe if he could get some bleach… where would he find bleach? Or really just something to make his clothes less sticky. He could really use something for the pain as well. That was getting pretty rough. Not to mention how dizzy he was getting. He had to sit down for fear of up and collapsing. This was just undignified. Absurd, really. And he couldn’t even wipe the blood out of his face. It was probably all in his hair too. He would need a shower. God, what he wouldn’t give for a shower. Or a change of clothes. Or a nap. Or a full meal. Or a fucking roof over his head. A chair would be pretty nice, beat sitting on bloody pavement in an alleyway.

Speaking of, Ryan was brought to the present again by Vav jostling him and, frankly, not at all helping in the pain department. Ryan thought he might have made a noise, a groan or a whine. He couldn’t bring himself to actually care all that much, though. Vav would probably leave eventually. He was saying something, but it was indistinct just like earlier when he had let that woman get away. Come to think of it, just about everything was indistinct at the moment. At least it made the pain a little less immediate. It was like a fuzzy cushion being stuffed into his head, obfuscating everything he was very much not in the mood to deal with, like Vav or humiliation or pain. And fuck, he was exhausted, why should he even fight it? 

So Ryan let the world fade to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> those tags didnt lie. i told you there would be angst :3c


End file.
